


Finally Yours

by BlackValentine, Hauk



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, not even sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 16:18:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/915352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackValentine/pseuds/BlackValentine, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hauk/pseuds/Hauk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Battle of Five Armies, Dwalin is in distress over Thorin's near-fatal injuries that may ruin his chance to ever admit the love he feels for the king.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finally Yours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hauk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hauk/gifts).



_I'm here again_  
 _A thousand miles away from you_  
 _A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am_

The battle had been bloody, the Orc and Goblin hoards merciless in their attack against the Elves, Men, and Dwarves who fought to spare the city of Erebor from their rule. Many had died that day, leaving loved ones to mourn their loss, but the deaths of the fallen had not been in vain, for the enemy had been slain and the city saved once more. The King under the Mountain had returned to his city, but injuries to himself and others of his company kept him from the throne for some time.

In the quarters of the healers, deep in the halls of Erebor, several Dwarves lay with bandages and healing herbs applied daily. Dwalin had been the first to leave, determination to protect his king and city forcing him from bed to take his place at the doors of Erebor as its most loyal guard. Fili and Kili, being young and durable, followed only a few days later.

But still one patient remained, with dark hair smoothed down under the bandage wrapped around his head and royal blue eyes closed against the candlelight of the room. This was the patient Dwalin worried most about, his body wracked with worry and fear over the near loss of his king. So badly did he want to visit Thorin in the healing halls, but his duty to protect the city from any further attacks kept him too busy to venture further into the mountain. And so instead he was left pacing the length of the mountain’s face outside the great gates of Erebor, glancing longingly inside with each pass as he waited anxiously for the king to awaken.

_I tried so hard_  
 _Thought I could do this on my own_  
 _I've lost so much along the way_

Death was not a rare occurrence in the Dwarven race. The loss at the Battle of Five Armies paled in comparison to the losses they had suffered at the Battle of Azanulbizar, where Dwalin and Balin’s own father, Fundin, had been slaughtered by Orcs. Their father’s death had been devastating, leaving Dwalin and his brother at a loss, but they had struggled through it and managed with the help of family and dear friends.

Now though, as Dwalin paced just inside the gate to avoid the rain pouring down outside, he could feel the pain of loss creeping through his chest, tightening around his heart and lungs with each passing second. Thorin had been near death when they’d found him, and every day that passed brought Dwalin more concern over his recovery. It was getting harder and harder to stay away from the healing halls, almost like a magnet was drawing him towards them.

Balin had been watching over him the entire time, worried over him with the knowledge of how much Dwalin loved their king. Since they had been younger, Dwalin had been nursing a crush on Thorin that had gradually been growing over the years. Finally, with much persistence, Dwalin had opened up and admitted the secret love to his older brother. He had told him of the love, and how painful it was to feel himself unworthy of the king… of how worried he was of being rejected, and how he felt his heart would shatter beyond repair should that ever happen. Balin had accepted the admission with a gracious smile and assured his not-so-little brother that he was sure Thorin would never reject him, regardless of if he returned the feelings or not. And still Dwalin had delayed, too nervous to admit his love to Thorin himself, and the possibility of now never having the chance ate away at his soul.

_Then I see your face_  
 _I know I'm finally yours_  
 _I find everything I thought I lost before_

Further inside the city, Balin stood with Fili and Kili as he adjusted their prince’s robes. Fili was dressed in the traditional red and gold, signaling him as the heir to the throne, while Kili wore the navy blue and silver of the second princeling. Kili’s circlet was crooked, as always, and Balin was standing on his toes to fix it when the doors to the throne room opened, drawing the young Dwarf’s attention away. Balin was ready to reprimand him, but the shared look of excitement on both brothers’ faces made him pause. Following their gazes, he turned to see Thorin standing in the doorway, crown in place over the now smaller bandage mostly hidden under his hair.

A soft sigh of relief left the elder Dwarf as he stepped back from the princes and walked towards the king with the younger two following him. They met Thorin halfway through the room, and each bowed low to their king, who returned the gesture with a small bow of his head. They were silent as the three stood back up, and Balin was about to comment on how worried they had been over him, but a sudden burst of ‘Uncle Thorin’ interrupted him before a blue and silver blur passed him to cling to Thorin tightly. Thorin looked shocked, but laughed as he hugged Kili back, and the other two joined him once sure that the overly rambunctious prince hadn’t hurt him.

Outside the doors, Dwalin turned at the sudden excited exclamation of Thorin’s name and swallowed harshly. Surely it couldn’t be, could it? His heart racing, Dwalin stepped towards the doors and peered inside, his mouth going dry at the sight of Thorin being embraced by his youngest nephew. He stared in shock, his emotions going haywire as a mixture of relief, anxiety, love, and utter fear went through him all at once. Thorin was holding Kili against himself, face turned into the younger’s hair, but the feel of Dwalin’s gaze must have sent chills up his spine, because he suddenly lifted his head to turn it slightly towards the doors where Dwalin stood. Those blue eyes pierced into the guard’s soul, leaving Dwalin frozen in place as he stared into the face of the one he had loved for so long.

_You call my name_  
 _I come to you in pieces_  
 _So you can make me whole_

Just as Dwalin was ready to turn and leave the others to their reunion, Thorin released Kili from his hold and stepped back from the group, who turned to follow his gaze before stepping back as well. Wanting to give them space, Balin led the lads away a little ways, leaving Thorin free to turn fully to the Dwarf at the doors. The king smiled then, a smile that warmed Dwalin to the tips of his fingers and toes, and when Thorin held out his hand and spoke his name, the guard felt he might melt right then and there. Here was the one he had loved for so long, healed now, and healthy, standing alone with a hand outstretched to him, beckoning him forward. Dwalin felt his feet moving, saw Thorin drawing closer with each step, and suddenly he was standing in front of his king, staring slightly downward into the eyes he’d wanted to lose himself in since the day they had met.

Dwalin bowed, receiving the same head bow in return as the others had, and felt words stumbling on his tongue as he fought to find the right ones to speak with. He couldn’t bring himself to outright admit his feelings, knowing it would be too abrupt and unexpected, but nor could he think of any way to start a conversation that would end with his admission, either. Thorin was staring up at him, obviously waiting on the guard to say something, and Dwalin felt his heart rate increase as his words jumbled even more. Something came stuttering out, though he wasn’t sure any of it could be counted as words at all, and finally just closed his mouth before anything further could escape. Tears blurred his eyes, but he quickly closed them, hiding his resignation with another bow of his head. He could feel the disappointment emanating from the king, but couldn’t bear to look at him again, and instead Dwalin turned and walked away back towards the doors.

Behind him, Dwalin heard Thorin call for him, his name sounding so sweet on the other’s lips that it brought more tears to his eyes, and despite his despair, he could not ignore his king. He turned, taking a shuddering breath to calm himself before opening his eyes once more. But it wasn’t Thorin who stood in front of him; rather, Dwalin opened his eyes to find his brother standing in front of him, the elder’s dark eyes full of concern and sympathy.

“It will be all right,” Balin assured him, his voice quiet. “Here.” Dwalin looked down to see his brother handing him a mug half full of ale that the elder had been drinking. “Drink something, and try to relax.”

He took the mug from the other and nodded, watching as his brother pat him sympathetically on the arm before taking his leave, the door sliding shut behind him.

_I've come undone_  
 _Like puzzle pieces in your hand_

Dwalin glanced down at the ale in his hand again and lifted the mug to take a small drink before lowering it once more, a cold chuckle escaping his lips. Balin always did drink his ale weak, his brother’s small stature unable to handle the alcohol as well as the rest of them could. Reaching into his shirt, Dwalin pulled out a small vial and, using his teeth to pull out the cork, poured the clear liquid into the mug before tossing the vial and cork away. 

Why was it, after so many years of knowing the king, of training with him and hiding away at night for long conversations that ended only after one or the other had passed out from exhaustion, why now was he unable to even speak a proper word? Why was it so hard to admit love to another? Curse his tongue for being incapable, and curse his weakness for being unable to muster the strength to tell Thorin the truth. 

Dwalin stared down into the mug as he swirled it, mixing the two drinks together, and took a shaky breath before lifting the mug and downing the entire thing. If only the ale would really work as a liquid courage, like some of the others claimed. Maybe then he would have the nerve to speak to Thorin other than on business.

Balin was right, he told himself. All he needed was a drink and some rest. Then he would see Thorin again, and this time, he would tell him the truth.

The drink gone, Dwalin lowered the mug once more and tossed it away, the wood thudding dully on the concrete floor before coming to rest next to the discarded vial. He shivered, closing his eyes for a moment as he let out a calming exhale, then opened them once more as he felt the ale racing through his system. That was better. Shaking himself to discard the sorrowful feelings, he crossed the floor to his bed, the thought of a nap sounding better with each step.

He was tired, the stress of the past weeks taking its toll on him, and his eyelids felt heavy as he lay down on the concrete bed and stared up at the vaulted ceiling high above his head. Sleep was taking him, his heart rate slowing as his eyes closed, surrendering himself to the peaceful darkness of rest. And as he fell asleep, Dwalin could swear he heard Thorin’s voice, that sweet voice calling out his name once more, but for once in his life, the guard didn’t answer. Instead, the sounds faded into the darkness, and Dwalin passed into sleep to the sound of his beloved’s voice calling his name.

_You call my name_  
 _I come to you in pieces_  
 _So you can make me whole_

Days later, Balin stood alone in the room after saying goodbye to his brother and king. He lifted a hand, the flower enclosed in it shaking slightly as he lay it on the concrete encasing before backing away, bowing his head.

“Be at peace now,” he whispered, tears in his eyes as he bowed low before leaving the room. He blew out the candles on the way, leaving only the light of a single sunbeam to filter through a high window, illuminating the large tomb. Upon the top lay Dwalin’s axe, crossed over Orcrist to form a protective cross on the tomb itself. The Elvish blade glowed softly, though no Orcs were about; instead, it glowed now for the content and protection of its owner, finally at peace with the one he had loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Prince_Fili dragged the skeleton from the closet, and I gave it some sort of structure. 
> 
> And neither of us are sorry. 
> 
> The song used is "Pieces", and belongs to RED. Tolkien's characters, of course, belong to him.
> 
> We'll both love you if you comment! :D


End file.
